


This is my design.

by be_a_rebel



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 12:00:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/be_a_rebel/pseuds/be_a_rebel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s hard to be with another person when you can’t get out of your own head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is my design.

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers up to 1.11.

This is my design.

You don’t actually drink blood. You don’t even taste it, not raw.

It’s not about savagery or bestiality or chunk of flesh, blood mouth.

It’s about control.

It’s about having control and using it, scythe-like almost and when you shower (when you dream) after you smile against the glass because you are God, in your own way and this is your kingdom.

You are smooth and water and plastic and no evidence, no prints or hair or paper because you can _will_ your hair not to fall and you can _will_ your skin not to shed.

You are treason and friendship and honour and lies and when you think of licking Will’s jaw it’s not something simple like lust or something opportunistic like blood lust.

You think of his flesh and then there is savagery but you can control that.

That is your design and Will is pencil and paper and charcoal and dim light and you will have him, first as human and later as meat because possession is obligatory and mandatory and Will leans into you as if you’ll offer him absolution.

He doesn’t know that it doesn’t exist.

It’s hard to be with another person when you can’t get out of your own head.

Except that you are in Will’s, drawing paths for him, making his decisions for him so he doesn’t have to and part of it is the control and part is fascination and part of it is that now every part of him is now connected to you.

When he has nightmares it’s because you won’t cure him. When he hallucinates it’s because you won’t let him see the truth.

When he kisses Alana it’s because he’s really kissing you.

You press your fingers into his temple and think of it pressing into his wound, his lungs and how warm they’ll be, soft and tough because Will is exquisite and so lovely and you want to trace him on paper and chip at his hip.

Your fingers enter his unresponsive mouth and he is burning and if you could shudder you would shudder but you are you.

You don’t believe in obsession.

Not for yourself.

Will is wound and trust and fear and hopelessness and good and misery.

He is broken.

He is your design.


End file.
